Just One Chance
by C.A James
Summary: Ava Morgan, or simply known as Number Seven, just wants a normal life. She doesn't want to be apart of a world of legacies. But, she knows that she can't change who she is. So, she takes the once chance she has to make a normal life for herself, to make it last for as long as she can manage it. Will it work? Or will her plans fail? Will she let herself fall into her given destiny?


Disclaimer: I own nothing. All rights go to the author of The Lorien Legacies series and the creators of the movie. This is merely a fanmade character involved with the plot line. Please, bare with me if I get somethings wrong. I'm not exactly a perfect writer, and I only know of the movie. (I do really want to read the books though.)

Chapter One character face claims;

Ava: Claire Holt  
Nathaniel: Hugh Jackman

In the beginning, there were nine of us.  
Three of us are gone, dead.  
There are now six of us left.  
They're hunting us, they won't stop until they've killed us all.  
I am Number Seven.  
And I know that my number is coming up soon. It's only a matter of time.

ℳy name is Ava Morgan, or... at least, that's what it is now. Two weeks ago it was Justine Parks. Two weeks ago, I wasn't a million hit sensation on Youtube. But, now isn't two weeks ago. Now is now. And I'm Ava Morgan, my story starts with Nathaniel, he's is my father, my mother died when I was three, and I'm from California. I don't get out much, but I'm tan enough to manage that story. I'm not too tall, so I don't play sports. I never wear anything too fancy, it becomes a distraction and a trap if I ever need to run. I always stay indoors when it's dark outside, I'm always "home" on time, and I never ask questions.

Welcome to my life.

There used to be nine of us. Nine of us from Lorien, but now there is six. We're being hunted by the Mogadorians, hideous beings that somehow found us taking refuge on Earth. They followed us here, but it took them forever to find where each one of us were. They stand about nine feet tall, most of them are slender, but don't be fooled by their thin frame, that's their advantage. Their strength is hidden. All Mogadorians have gills beside their nostrils, and sharp teeth like a shark that pile up. They're never in a lined right like ours and the humans. And most of them, if not all, wear large black clothes, which makes me sometimes curious as to which store they raided to get them. You would have to find a tall, taller, and extra taller for those guys to find something to cover up their utterly pale and tattooed skin. But it wasn't always like this. There was a time when all nine of us, when there was nine, could sleep soundly. But, that was too long ago to remember. I was still just a little girl then. Yet, at the first sighs that the Mogadorians found us on Earth, I knew that everybody was frantic. I know that I was. But that was because I had gotten a scar on my right ankle when I was only six. It woke me from my sleep. This scar was the first out of the three that I now have. It was my first, and I remember it being dreadfully painful, like I had been standing in a hot fireplace for ten minutes. I remember waking up and screaming for Nathaniel, and him running inside my bedroom with a blade that only our kind could use. I remember begging him to make it stop as the burning continued. I remember some of the neighbors that were home coming over to the front door and asking if everything was okay, and Nathaniel telling them that I was fine. That I was just woken up by a nightmare.

If only that was the case.

The moment I got the scar, I knew that Number One was gone. Dead. No longer apart of the nine group that we were. There were now eight of us left. Nathaniel and I were on our best guard since. I also remember taking a soothing cold bath after Nathaniel explained to me what it meant. "The Mogadorians have found us here on Earth. We have to be careful, and pray that the others do the same." He told me.

I knew then that it was only a matter of time before they came and found the others, killing us in order of our numbers like we have to be, and eventually, I knew that they are going to reach Number Seven. Me. I just couldn't ever bring myself to imagine being ready for when they come, I couldn't ever manage to imagine getting the burning sensation of a scar, telling me that number six was died, and then it was my turn. Telling me that I was next.

My second scar came when I was in the middle of a dance routine in middle school. I was at the center of the stage. I remember what it felt like, and I would have managed to finish it it was not for the fact that the burning scar had started to glow. A lot of people were afraid of me then, all my friends never approached me, moms and dads on the dance team never looked at me. They all thought I was some kind of monster. So, I moved after that. Transferred to a all new school, but never attended any of the group things, never made any friends. Some had tried to talk to me though, I just ignored them and wore headphones all the time to block them out. I wore hoodies often too, dark, large, hoodies that easily consumed my frame. I could pull it over my knees and use it as a heating source for when I was cold and still have room to spare; that's how large it was. I was alone most of the time there, and I remained that way. Because, I knew the moment that I got the second burning scar on my right ankle that Number Two was dead. They were getting closer.

My third scar came two weeks ago before I moved to where Nathaniel and I have decided to stay now. Richmond, Virginia. I was caught in the open when it came. I was sitting on the beach in Florida, taking in the fresh air after having locked myself in my room for a few hours. I didn't know anybody else was out there when I was, but apparently there was, because now... the scar that I got has over a million hits on Youtube. I'm being called a "freak" all over the place, in all different languages, others are calling the video a fake, saying that it's "cheesy editing work." Which, as strange as it sounds, brings just a little relief to me, lifting a bit of weight off my chest. But no matter how relieved I feel, there's nothing to get rid of that video. Not even the systems that the most local police stations have could take it down. I would have to go to the F.B.I. to get something like that off the net. Which, I couldn't do.

You know, sometimes I hate being this whole... "legacy" thing. I was supposed to save my planet? Protect my people? Yeah... right. All of these things are pretty much a curse for me. Nathaniel has tried telling me time and time again that these new things that I'm getting, the blue lights in my hands, the strength, everything, apart from the scars, of course, are gifts. They come with being a legacy. But, I beg to differ. These "gifts" cause me pain, suffering in the most part. I can't even make friends without fearing that they might found out what I am. Without fearing of another scar showing up, or my powers making themselves known as they grow stronger.

I just want to be normal.

I want to live a normal life.

Is that so much to ask?


End file.
